


more than a favour

by boisoup



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fluff, No Atlantis Plot Line, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:53:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24649027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boisoup/pseuds/boisoup
Summary: The nature of the favour was peculiar but, when he asked, she agreed, perhaps a bit too quickly. He assured her that he would only call the favour in when absolutely necessary, “you have my word,” he had promised. However, Kassandra knows Sparta and her people, a little bit too set in her ways but it works, normally. So when Brasidas had finally called in the favour, ( “the Kings are threatening my position as General,” his letter had said) Kassandra knew that he had worked too hard to have his life ruined by an age old tradition.So she married him.
Relationships: Brasidas/Kassandra (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

Kassandra was simply nervous. Her palms were sweaty, her heart thumping a little faster than it probably should. Riding Phobos through the gates of Sparta was the least of her worries, despite some Spartans holding grudges about Pausanias. It was Brasidas who set her on edge. He’d done nothing despite call in the second part of an old favour. 

The nature of the favour was peculiar but, when he asked, she agreed, perhaps a bit too quickly. He assured her that he would only call the favour in when absolutely necessary, “you have my word,” he had promised. However, Kassandra knows Sparta and her people, a little bit too set in her ways but it works, normally. So when Brasidas had finally called in the favour, ( “the Kings are threatening my position as General,” his letter had said) Kassandra knew that he had worked too hard to have his life ruined by an age old tradition.

So she married him. She wasn’t going to get married anyway. Her Mater wasn’t exactly pleased with the reasoning behind the union, whereas Nikolaus was ecstatic, providing Brasidas would keep his oaths as a Husband and Kassandra would give them grandchildren. ( “One day,” Nikolaus had added when Kassandra glared at him and Brasidas looked away from his Future Father-in-Law.) The ceremony was quick, the priest paid well and as quick as Kassandra arrived, she left again, the first part of the favour fulfilled. Now the second part would be a bit trickier, fooling the Greek World into believing that they are happily married.

Phobos finally stopped outside of Brasidas’ house, well, their house. Kassandra smoothly got out of the saddle, took a deep breath and entered their home, where Brasidas sat at the head of the table, writing on parchment. He only looked up when his wife closed the door behind her. 

“Ah, welcome back Kassandra, I trust Messara was fruitful?” Brasidas stood up and braced her shoulder with his hand with a small squeeze and a friendly smile upon his lips. Kassandra’s heart sped up again, as she tried to push down all too real feelings for her law bound, but ultimately fake marriage. 

“It was nothing my sword could not handle,” she answered smuggly, patting the hand on her shoulder as she moved away from his grasp, removing the weapon belts from around her waist, hanging them on a hook near the door. One thing she did truly appreciate about Brasidas as a husband, he did not stop her from gallivanting around the Aegean and she could virtually come and go as she pleased. However she was forced back to Sparta this once and King Archidamus was holding the leash; to honour our union, Brasidas’s letter had said. Unfortunately for Kasandra, there’d be nothing stopping Archidamus from punishing Brasidas in her stead.

“Have you heard anything from Archidamus?”

“King Archidamus, my love.” Brasidas corrected, sitting back in front of his parchment, face almost buried in his work, “and yes, he will dine with us in two nights, the new King, Agesipolis, is giving him some trouble.”

Kassandra was still recovering from the pet name, my love, pretending to dust off her blades as they hung from the hook . He did this sometimes, she thought it was so that he could get into the mindset that they were married, not just friends, after all, they were going to try and deceive Archidamus into believing that their marriage was legitimate. However, the stutter in her heart was silenced, and she continued the conversation. “I almost feel sorry for Agesipolis,” she admitted, sitting in the chair opposite Brasidas, her elbows on the table, “at least we don’t have to think about the cult anymore.”

Brasidas looked up again from his letter and said, “no, we won’t. Not anymore.”

That night they stayed in the house, they drank wine until their sentences were slurred and they couldn’t walk in a straight line. Kassandra told him of her travels to Messera, from the mundane collection of flowers from Mount Ida to clearing out Cultists from the Palace of Aphareus. Then she got lost on a tangent, the Cult still creeping into her life no matter where she went and, like a hydra, every time she seemingly eradicated those following her every move, more are brainwashed into hunting her down, never mind Alexios. 

Brasidas had sat in silence as she went on and on, going through the motions of anger and sadness with her. “Kassandra, they will not hurt you again,” Brasidas said, touching her shoulder gently as they sat across from each other, “on my honour as your husband.” He saw that this did little to lift her spirits. _Why would it_ , he thought, knowing that the marriage was a formality and nothing more.

He shifted in his seat, moving forward until he was on his knees in front of her, his hands on her shoulders once again, “You are Kassandra of Sparta, and you fear no one,” he whispered, putting his forehead on hers, watching her eyes move to meet his. “You crushed the cult under your foot like Zeus personified, tore through the Aegean blessed by Poseidon and you have shaken the world so much that Atlas almost faltered.” As he spoke, his voice rose, the conviction ringing through his words and shining through his eyes. Kassandra’s eyes seemed to gleam as she smiled at him.

“So you’re saying I’m a god?” She teased, moving her head away from his, sitting up straight. With a large swig from the pitcher of wine, she continued to laugh and offered Brasidas the rest, “thank you Brasidas.”

Kassandra went to bed first, wrapped herself up in the blanket, relishing in the luxury of soft bedding and still land, not bobbing up and down with the ocean. She hoped it would lull her to sleep before the Spartan came to bed. It wasn’t their first time sharing a bed and it wouldn’t be the last time either, it would look suspicious if there were two beds in the home of newly-weds. Unfortunately sleep did not embrace her quick enough and it did nothing good to her heart and her libido.

Lying on her back, staring at the ceiling trying to count sheep, movement by the door urged her to look down, seeing a fully dressed Brasidas enter the room. Fortunately, it seemed like he hadn’t noticed that she was still awake as he unbuckled his cuirass, and lifted it over his head. Kassandra saw the red tunic, lift a little too high as it got snagged on the cuirass, grazing over his thigh so she could see the hem of his linen underwear---- she swiftly turned on her side, away from Brasidas and temptation. She may not be a virgin but she hoped Artemis would take pity on her the next few days.

Just as she got comfortable on her side, she felt the sheet peel back just a little and heard Brasidas shift his weight as he slipped under the sheet. It seemed as if his back was towards her, judging by the way the sheet spread between the two of them.

It was too easy to share a bed with the Spartan General, she always felt too safe, too comfortable and Hypnos always pulled her in just a little too deep. But right now, the image of the red tunic was burned into her memory, his toned thighs, his skin darkened by the sun but most likely flecked with scars and freckles. She just wanted to see what would happen if the tunic went up even further and linen came down.

Then she remembers the marriage is fake, any feelings are probably fake and certainly unrequited, and all she has to do is survive another two nights so she can return to the Andrestia and sail away for another indescribable amount of time.  
  
Brasidas was nervous, sleeping next to a woman he frequently likened to Athena and Artemis. He always knew that she was only here as a favour to him but, a small part of him hoped that she was here for something more than the favour. Either way, he knew his love was unrequited (her reaction to him accidentally calling her my love is proof enough of how she sees him, as just a friend,) and, there’s no Spartan military tactic he can apply to be victorious in this situation.

He lay on his side, awake for an unknown amount of time. The General guessed that Kassandra was asleep behind him, she seemed to let go of her strangle grip on the sheet and he could hear her breathing gently and evenly. He’d had enough sleepless nights next to her to know when she fell asleep. He carefully peeled back his half of the bedding, trying to slip out of the bed as quietly as possible.

He didn’t bother with his armour as he left the house, toeing on his sandals as he left their home to walk around Sparta. This was becoming a tradition, to steal away from their shared bed on the first night she returned. To clear my thoughts, he tells himself every time, which is true but the content of the thoughts differ every time. Sometimes he thinks about professing his love, waking her up with kisses, and other times, he thinks about asking her to end their marriage, the pain of it not being real almost too much to handle.

Regardless, he considers every thought selfish. It is selfish to profess his love, to have manipulated her into a marriage she did not want, regardless of the good intentions he had. It is selfish to end the marriage, however fake it may be, to just cast her aside and make it all for nothing. It is selfish, no matter how he looks at it.

He returns to their room after a walk around the Temple of Artemis Orthia, his mind temporarily cleared and his eyes heavy. He toed off his sandals and slipped back into the sheets, unaware that Kassandra had stirred until she spoke, “you went for a walk again?”

Any tiredness Brasidas had acquired had vanished, replaced by the shock of one, she’s awake and two, she knows about the midnight walks. He was speechless, just for a moment, before answering, “yes, I had to clear my thoughts.” He was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his breath a little uneven, made noticeable by the sheet moving on top of him.

He heard Kassandra shift, then her breath on his shoulder, as she asked, “which thoughts?” She was obviously half asleep, her voice quieter and softer than usual. Brasidas tilted his head towards her, seeing her eyes opening and closing slowly, as if she was fighting to stay awake to hear his thoughts. “If they’re guilty thoughts, I’m great at those,” she murmured with a small but sad smile on her face, “it’s either you or them, you do what you have to do to survive.”

Brasidas huffed, a little bewildered at how quickly her mind goes to casually rationalising killing, but she has always lived in a kill or be killed world, even without the help of Sparta. “They are not guilty thoughts,” Brasidas explained, briefly looking back at the ceiling, “go back to sleep, we will talk in the morning.” He turned back to Kassandra and moved a piece of hair from her eyes. She hummed appreciated but ultimately, didn’t roll back to her side as she usually did. 

Brasidas rolled on his side, first away from Kassandra and then towards her, but by that time, she was back asleep, lips open slightly as she breathed evenly. He gazed at her, the way that her hair was all over the pillow behind her and how her shoulders had to be covered by the sheet. He found sleep once again, facing Kassandra.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kassandra's wet dream does not go as planned and Brasidas pines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've caught up with the rewrite and so all chapters after this are brand spanking new!!!

Kassandra didn’t know where she was, when she got there or how she got there but, nevertheless, she was enjoying herself plenty. Lying on her back on the surprisingly soft ground, her feet were planted, lifting her hips towards her paramour. She was too enthralled by pleasure to look who was down there but she’s had someone else’s tongue pressing on her clit enough to know what they’re doing. Kassandra is also sure she felt hair scratching her inner thigh, like a beard. She had a few ideas of who it could be or, at least who she wanted it to be.

One of her hands heads down her body towards her lover, to grab at surprisingly short hair and she tugged. She deduced that it was a Spartan down there, a braid prominent on the top of his head. However, her investigation was stilted by a finger pushing into her, instantly hooking and dragging along her walls. Her eyes squeezed shut, her hand tightened in his hair, probably messing up the braid, and she moaned, it wasn’t very loud but it was enough for her lover to growl. With that one sound, two things happened, her core tightened as she moaned again, and she figured out who was pleasuring her so. 

This must be a dream, she thought to herself, although she ultimately did not want to wake up. Keeping a hand in his head, tugging and pulling on short hair rewarding her with delicious growls from her paramour, she used her other hand to bring herself up to look down on Brasidas of Sparta. His eyes were dark, hooded and predatory, the hair along his upper lip covered in her. Her hands slid to his neck, (unfortunately his cuirass covers most of his upper body, what a wet dream this is,) then up to cup his face, beard soft beneath her fingers.

Kassandra went to kiss him but Brasidas opened his mouth as if to say something. Kassandra moved her attention to his neck before he barked. She stopped kissing him and barked again. Every time he barked, it became more and more dog-like, until her eyes shot open, Kassandra finding herself in bed and alone. Spurred by a chorus of dogs, she swung her legs out of bed and ran her hands over her face before she stood up and marched to the window. Two dogs sat barking at nothing. Absolute. Nothing. Grinding her teeth and scowling, she reached out of the window, grabbed the shutters and slammed them closed. 

Aphrodite must be playing with her; she’s tired, angry and sexually frustrated. Gods watch over whoever crosses her today because she’s in the mood to punch someone.

After wrestling with her with her grieves, only having to take them off to put on the socks to stop the leather straps from rubbing, Kassandra stomped into the kitchen, Brasidas nowhere in sight, only a selection of fruits and a small loaf of bread sat on a plate. He must’ve thrown something together before leaving to do whatever it is he does in the morning. Stupid Brasidas of Sparta, he manages to make her feel better without even doing anything. Still, she took the bread and a few figs and apples, managing to carry them outside so she could stuff them in the saddle bag she recently bought for Phobos.

She wasn’t going to do anyone any good by sitting and letting her frustration fester. Kassandra isn’t a helpless maiden who wallows in self-pity, instead, she’s the kind of woman who goes and beats the shit out of something with a stick. Alexios also happens to be taking care of the Adrestia whilst she completes her duty as a wife, (or deals with "malakas marital bullshit," as her beloved little brother liked to put it.) Either way, she knows Alexios would be put for a little sibling rough housing. It wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism they had but, there was no way they were going to sit with Sokrates and discuss the nearly 30 years of trauma the two of them had gathered. So, hitting each other will do.

Kassandra rushes through Sparta, the wind nipping at Phobos’ heels as they rode toward Gytheion. Fortunately, the people of Lakonía know how to get out of the way of a pent up misthios and her horse lest they be ran over with no remorse.

She finds the Adrestia exactly where she left her, Eagle figurehead standing proud (Ikaros also perched on its head, preening his feathers,) and Barnabas and his men running around the ship. Alexios, however, stood at the helm leering over the bees working around him, a smug look on his face. If Kassandra had to guess, he’s been barking orders all day and not doing anything himself, but did she really expect anything else? 

She dismounted Phobos and stepped over the gap between the dock and ship, Barnabas chirping at her happily, welcoming her back home clasping her around the arm with a firm shake. If something or everything went wrong, she knew that the Adrestia would be waiting to welcome her home. If she never found her Mother or managed to save Alexios, she’d at least be able to sail away to the edge of the world with a family who accepted her (as long as they got paid, that is). Whether it was Fate, the Gods or some other benevolent force, everyone came home safe, including Stentor. 

“Kassandra, what brings you to my boat?” Alexios greeted with a vicious smile, his hands gripping the railing. Alexios is not Deimos but he still clings to parts of his former identity; Kassandra thinks it’s like a safety blanket, he has known nothing but violence and when all else fails, he uses it to protect himself. She’d never say anything about it, he wasn’t hurting innocent people anymore and he knows that he’d face the wrath of Kassandra should he step too far out of line. 

“Firstly, Alexios, this is my ship,” Kassandra crossed her arms as Alexios’ smile got bigger as he sharpened his eyes on his sister, “Secondly, I need your help.” Alexios paused for a moment, smile faltering before being replaced by a booming laugh. 

“My help? That’s new,” he almost scoffed, “what sort of help are you looking for? I’m sure I can give you one of  _ my crew  _ to help you.” He was attempting to push the buttons he knew Kassandra had and, for a second she almost let him get away with it. 

“Oh, I don’t think it would be good to hit any of  _ my crew, _ ” Kassandra glared back as the crew momentarily stopped, eavesdropping and quickly scurried back to work as Barnabas shouted at them to  _ get back to work! _

“Oh, you can try.” Alexios jumped over the railings from the helm to the deck, a large thud when he landed. One day, either Alexios or Kassandra are going to go straight through the deck down to the rowers. “Marital bullshit finally gone to shit?” He asked, shoving into his sisters' shoulder, forcing her arms to uncross as she grunted a reply to him. If she were anyone else, she would’ve gone flying into the deck. ( _ “Gods blood,” _ Barnabas probably thought as he tried to usher them off the ship and onto solid land.) 

The two of them had unspoken rules about sparring: no weapons, no hair pulling, no kicking private areas and, most importantly, no breaking bones, except noses. As misthios, both of them needed all their bones in working order to do misthios things, like hold a sword, kick someone, count drachmae, etc. The Important things.

On solid land, the two of them circled each other, Barnabas off to the side drowning weapon belts and armour pieces. Alexios was still very impatient, looking like he was going to pounce any moment but Kassandra has beaten him before and she’ll be damned if she lets him win today. A smug smirk on her face, she motioned for her brother to come at her with her hands before bawling them back into fists. Apparently, that’s all she needed to do as Alexios charged into her, knocking both of them on the floor. 

For a brief second, Kassandra felt all the air leave her lungs before she suddenly inhaled, throwing her arms over her head to protect it. Alexios immediately tried to prize her arms apart, sitting on top of her so she couldn’t escape, his knees digging into her sides as he attempted to crush her. 

“Stop. Being. A. Coward.” Alexios argued, his plans to break down her defences going nowhere. However, being so bull-headed and impatient to win, Alexios made the mistake of bending his head down too far allowing Kassandra to immediately break her guard, grappling her brother's head, the inside of her elbow pressing on his neck. Using his neck as leverage, she managed to shake his balance and roll them over so she could let go of him and stand up. 

“I’m not a coward, just patient,” Kassandra finally teased, shaking her arms out as Alexios stood up, scowling at his sister. They started circling each other again, Alexios momentarily rubbing the front of his neck, leaving Kassandra snickering. “Did I hurt you, little Alexios?” she teased again, she knew he hated the idea of being belittled, and it spurred him into making mistakes. 

As planned, he ran at her, flurrying hit at her as she ducked under his wider swings, jabbing him in the side. However, what she did not expect is him to swing wildly behind him, the backs of his knuckles hitting her straight in the eye. She tumbled to the floor, completely shocked and bewildered, her hands over her eye, as Alexios stopped, concerned before teasing, “Did I hurt you, little Kassandra?” 

That's when Kassandra removed her hands from her eye and scowled at Alexios, every ounce of aggression in her body ready to come out at once. “I’m going to make you wish mater was here,” she threatened, “so you could hide behind her skirts!” 

It was sun set when Brasidas finally sat down on the edge of their bed, hands running over his face. It had been a long, long, long, long, long day. Training young Spartans at the ass crack of dawn, drilling them until they could barely stand and then he rushed off to a military meeting with Archidamon and Agesipolis, the latter continually needing to take breaks in order to keep up. Agesipolis is young and with time he will learn but it doesn’t help that he continually stops the meetings to ask questions that boys his age should already have the answer too. Or maybe Brasidas is just being harsh on the young King because he can not get Kassandra out of his head and it is making every fibre of his being ache with want. It could’ve been his imagination this morning but, he swears that she said his name as she slept and even if she didn’t, just the way she looked so content as she slept in his bed (hair strewn across her face, mouth slightly agape, snoring) made his heart want to skip right out of his chest and onto the maps of the war council.

However, Brasidas got through the meeting, miraculously he had not butted heads with any of the other generals who preferred  _ tried and tested  _ Spartan tactics of brute strength and displays of force. Brasidas, a man of many talents, suggested that they try other approaches like the successful partnership with Anthousa in Korinth. The Kings left to sleep on the matter whereas the other Generals, Brasidas included returned to their hectic schedules of training young Spartan Boys and keeping their adult soldiers in line.

Brasidas returned to an empty stable and an empty house, Kassandra most likely gallivanting around Sparta before coming home to a fake marriage and a fake husband. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had escaped to the Adrestia for peace and quiet away from the bustling streets where people called her  _ Nikolaus’s daughter, Myrrines Daughter  _ or even worse,  _ Granddaughter of Leonidas!  _ Kassandra has no identity in Sparta and he supposed that being married to him, as fake as it to them, is real to the people of Sparta, giving her another identity she had no choice in. 

Brasidas finally flopped back on the bed, riddled with thoughts from war strategy, ways to better deal with Agesipolis, ways to make Kassandra more comfortable in Sparta, to the way it would feel to kiss her… He struck the last thought from his mind, although he knew that his mind would drift back later whilst he slept. But then, he heard the front door open and stomping through the house, he knew that there was only one person who moved like an elephant when they thought they’re alone. 

And there she was, Kassandra, with a black eye, looking exceptionally pissed off. Brasidas fought the urge to bolt up off the bed and interrogate her until she told him what happened, instead carefully rising up from his lying position, concern painting his features. “What happened?” he asked, standing up and moving towards her. 

“Oh, you know, Alexios,” she said nonchalantly, folding her arms across her chest, as she did, “I felt like hitting someone but, unlike most people, he knows how to hit back.” She was posturing it as if nothing was wrong, however, as a frequent culprit himself, Brasidas knows when someone is dealing with things in an unhealthy manner. Despite Kassandra’s ardent belief that Alexios and Deimos are different people, Brasidas can’t look at her younger brother, without the wound on his leg burning and pulsing; he can’t even remember what happened at Amphipolis, (Kassandra continually ignores his question of what happened, glancing off to another topic, even Alexios looks away in shame.) Brasidas did not trust Alexios and would personally murder the man if he had the chance.

However, Brasidas took her word for it, although he was intrigued as to why she wanted to hit something. He supposed that she is a misthios and fights on a near enough day to day basis, maybe she just wanted to keep herself sharp, just in case. “Let me go get a cloth,” Brasidas said, before briefly going down stairs, grabbing a cloth, soaking it in the bucket of clean water, ringing it out and returning to Kassandra. “Hold it over your eye, it should reduce the swelling.” He told her, folding the cloth and placing it over her eye until she held it herself. 

“I could’ve done this myself,” she told him, herself sufficient attitude surfacing. He assumes it something that growing up on Kephallonia taught her, not to rely on others when you can rely on yourself. Whereas Sparta, for all it’s tough love, teaches camaraderie and protecting your fellow soldier. Brasidas sometimes wonders if their relationship would be different if she was raised in Sparta. Who would she be? What would they be? Would they be friends? Would they have transitioned into something more? Again, the thought is struck from his mind.

“Thank you,” Kassandra said, taking the cloth off her eye for a moment, blinking and putting it back on, “for the cloth and for breakfast this morning.” Brasidas, sat back on the edge of the bed, taking his grieves off, looked up at her for a moment and smiled softly. 

Between the two of them, they cooked a rabbit for dinner, Kassandra kept trying to tell him that it was going to burn but Brasidas kept telling her that he had cooked hundreds of rabbits and had never burnt one before. It was a little charred. Throughout dinner, she kept telling him, “I told you so.” 

Brasidas went up to bed first, sitting under the sheets reading war plans to go over tomorrow at a meeting, the candle light making it only just visible. Kassandra soon followed, (her armour removed earlier that evening) and she sat next to him, reading over his shoulder, taking the cloth off her eye. “That’s... a lot of troops,” she said, sounding a little surprised, “are you going to be one of them?” 

Brasidas put the plans down, “Yes, Archidamus wants experienced Generals to defend Arkadia from Athens.” He knew that for once, the weakening of Arkadia wasn’t Kassandra’s fault, it was some pesky mercenary that Athens hired. “With luck from the Gods, it shouldn’t take too long,” He sighed, knowing that it would be a difficult campaign, even with Lagos still Archon, but it would be a vital foothold for Sparta. 

“Well, if you need help, you know where I am.” Kassandra offered. Brasidas knew how much she had helped (and hindered) Sparta in its conquests, mostly in Megaris, Pylos and supposedly Amphipolis. “For Drachmae, of course,” she teased, elbowing him in the side, chuckling. 

“For all you joke, Sparta may actually need you,” he replied, a little seriously for what she was probably expecting. He looked over at her; the black eye, given to her by Alexios, looked as if it was starting to go down. “Let me have a look,” he said as he leaned forward, then looked back, having a different angle but a better look at her eye. “Archidamus will want an exciting story for that black eye,” he warned, a hint of teasing in his voice as he directed the conversation away from battle plans. 

“I’m sure it’ll be gone by morning,” Kassandra chuckled before adding, victoriously, “if not, he’ll have the story of how I pulled my brother.”

Brasidas let out an unexpected bark of a laugh, the look on Kassandra’s face went from amused to almost disgust. Was he not meant to find it funny? Did she actually beat her brother into the ground? Either way, Brasidas was sure the change in the look on her face was not a good one, so he asked, “What’s with that look? Was that not meant to be funny?” 

Kassandra quickly put herself back together, a placid look on her face as she said, “I had a dream about you barking like a dog.” Brasidas had to stifle a laugh, not wanting to shit on the dreams of his wife. 

“I will not question your dreams, Kassandra,” Brasidas chuckled, putting the war plans on the bed side table and blowing out the candle to settle for the night, “hopefully, if I feature in your dreams tonight, I won’t be a dog.”

“You weren’t a dog, you just sounded like one.”


End file.
